The Aftermath
by Wyvern's Elucidated Brethren
Summary: Sequel to 'Night of Regret'. Harry and Draco are trying to come to terms with their break-up. Slash.


A/N: Thank you, thank you, my wonderful reviewers: CrystalStarGuardian, Prongs, Tyleet, Yolen Hitamiya Ichikawa, Lucius, Just Silver, Kacella, goggly (Harry and Draco fell in love because I say so :) ), Julianna Edwards (On your favourites list? I'm touched!!) , mrs potter, Allie and ~*Ginny*~. Here is the sequel to 'Night of Regret', in which Harry and Draco both try to come to terms with their break-up.  
  
  
Draco was sat in his usual place at the bar. After his row with Harry, he'd packed in his job and taken the holiday on his own. He'd just felt the need to get away, he couldn't face his friends and all their questions. He hadn't told anyone where he was going, not even Ron or Hermione - especially not Ron or Hermione, as they would only tell Harry who would probably come looking for him, and Draco couldn't handle seeing Harry again just yet. Which is why he now spent nearly every available minute slumped at a bar in some pub somewhere in Australia. He didn't know how long he'd been there. A week, two weeks, could have been a month for all he cared. He glanced around the pub. The barman was looking at him with concern.   
  
"You all right, mate?" he asked. Draco nodded, and offered his hand.   
"Draco Malfoy."   
"St John Hawkes." They shook hands.   
"Are you gay?" slurred Draco.   
"No, actually," replied St John. Draco dropped his hand.  
"I was. Still am, actually. Harry, that's my boyfriend, well, he was. We split up." St John nodded. He was used to the ramblings of the newly dumped. He served Draco another drink. Draco drank deeply. St John turned to serve the girl next to him, only half-listening to Draco's confused monologue.  
  
"I really, really thought he loved me. He was the only one I've ever loved. I thought we had something special. Then he tells me he doesn't love me anymore. What'm I gonna do, Singe? You understand, don't you?"  
"Yeah, yeah," replied St John quickly, an eye on the clock. Eight o'clock. The bloke had been drinking steadily since five.   
  
"He's so beautiful," Draco mumbled on. "If you could see him, you'd fall in love with him. He's got the loveliest green eyes..." Draco dissolved into tears again, burying his head in his arms and knocking over his drink. St John cleared up the mess.   
"It's not the end of the world, mate," he soothed. "Plenty more fish in the sea." Draco looked up.   
"Do you know how tired I am of hearing that? I know there are plenty of others out there, but I love Harry. I want Harry! I want...I want another drink."   
"I think you've had enough already, mate," replied St John firmly, picking Draco up and steering him out of the door.  
  
Meanwhile, back in England, Harry seemed to be bearing up a little better than Draco. He, at least, was smiling. He'd just been shopping with Ron and Hermione, buying clothes for their daughter Lorren, something he always loved doing.   
  
But there was still the feeling of emptiness inside that would not go away. He missed Draco, and he jumped every time he saw a tall, athletic blond dressed in leather trousers, willing it to be him.   
  
Only it never was, and Harry was left feeling miserable. He'd tried to contact Draco a week after their split, but he was nowhere to be found. He'd quit his job, hadn't been seen around any of his usual haunts, and the local off-licence was suffering a steep decline in the sales of Archers. He'd disappeared without a trace.   
  
Harry turned his attention back to Lorren, who was modelling a pair of red dungarees.   
"Uncle Harry, where's Uncle Draco?" asked Lorren innocently. "I haven't seen him for ages 'n' I drawed a picture for him!"  
"I don't know where Uncle Draco is," replied Harry truthfully. "Hey, Lorren, you look gorgeous in those dungarees, why don't you show them to your mum?" Lorren skipped off to find Hermione, and Ron came into the room and sat down next to Harry.   
  
"You all right?" he asked. Harry nodded.   
"Yeah. Bearing up. Just."  
"It's really hit you badly, hasn't it?"  
"Yeah. I keep expecting to wake up and find him next to me, and it's all been a horrible nightmare." Ron shifted position on the sofa, unsure of what to say next.   
  
"Fuck, Ron, I know I started the argument, but it was only so we could make up again, you know? It just ran away from us. I didn't mean anything I said, and I think...hope...that he didn't. I really love him, Ron."   
"Yeah, I know." Ron looked at his watch. "Hey, Harry, why don't you start up Quidditch again? It used to make you so happy, and I know Wood would be delighted to have you back. We've suffered badly without you, mate, gone from second to tenth. We've even fallen behind the Cannons!" Harry grinned, his first real smile for ages, but said nothing. "Come on, mate, don't make me beg! Cos I will, I'll go down on my knees!" Ron dropped to his knees in a very theatrical begging pose. Harry laughed, and thumped Ron playfully on the shoulder.   
"Get up, idiot, I'll come back!"   
  
*  
  
A week later, and Harry was feeling happier than he had in ages. He was taking part in his first competitive Quidditch game for over six months, and had forgotten the wonderful feeling of freedom that flying always gave him. He darted about, looking for the Snitch, avoiding the attentions of the opposing team's Seeker, who was bulky and had a threatening sneer on his face, not unlike a picture Harry had once seen of one of Dean's West Ham heroes, Vinnie Jones. The Hawks were trailing by ten points, and Harry was keeping his eyes peeled for the Snitch, determined to win.   
  
He saw it fluttering underneath one of the goalposts. He dived for it a fraction of a second before 'Vinnie', narrowly missing a Bludger whacked in his direction.   
  
He reached the Snitch a second before 'Vinnie', hands closing around the tiny ball, and landed, before being bundled by his team-mates.   
"You did it, Harry!" Wood was yelling. "You won us the game!" In the elation he was feeling, Harry whirled around, expecting to see Draco sprinting onto the pitch as he used to, but then reality hit hard, wiping the smile from his face.   
  
"Hey, Harry!" Ron ran towards him. He stopped as he caught the expression on Harry's face. "Ohh..."  
"I'm fine," Harry lied. "Seriously. Hey, team, drinks on me tonight!"   
  
*  
  
Draco was lying on the beach a few days later feeling a lot better now his hangover had cleared up. He peered at the world from behind his sunglasses, eyeing up the surfers that were running towards the surf. He might as well face facts, he and Harry had split up and, while he was not exactly thrilled about that, he had to start getting his life back together. Mmm, that dark-haired one was quite nice...  
  
Draco briefly considered hiring a surfboard and joining in, but the memory from yesterday, when he had fallen off five times, nearly drowned three times and earned a number of cuts and bruises prevented him. He contented himself by lying there and looking sophisticated. Maybe he'd get himself a tan.   
  
An hour later he was rudely awakened by someone throwing a bucket of water over him. He sat up angrily, and found himself staring at the identical grins of Fred and George Weasley.   
"I should have known," he growled. "What do you want?"   
"Oh, that's nice, that is," remarked Fred. "Just thought we'd come and pay a nice friendly visit..."   
"Since when have your visits been nice and friendly?" demanded Draco, his eyes twinkling. "Every time I see you, you want me to test out your new products. I'm fed up with being turned into various types of animal."  
"Oh, come on, you did make a rather cute white rabbit," grinned George, sitting on the sand next to him.   
"Yeah, whatever. So, what are you doing in Australia?"   
"Fancied a holiday," replied Fred.   
"Decided to take a world tour," agreed George. "And look who we found slowly turning a nice shade of lobster red on an Australian beach!" Draco studied their faces. They were looking honest and innocent. They had to be hiding something.  
  
"Ron put you up to this, didn't he?" Draco guessed.   
"Nooo, not exactly," replied George.   
"We just saw how upset Harry was. Ron told us what happened, we noticed that you'd disappeared without a trace..."   
"...And so decided to take a world tour in the hope of bumping into you. And now we've found you, we're going to take you home."   
"I don't want to go home," protested Draco.  
"You're lying," said Fred. "Come on, I know Harry would love to see you..."   
"I can't face Harry again! Not yet!" argued Draco. "Please, I...I just can't. It would be too painful. Please, leave me alone!"   
"OK, maybe you don't want to come home just yet. At least come back to England with us. We've got to visit our Brighton store. We could stay there for a few days."   
"Brighton?"   
"Yep." Draco loved Brighton. Best place in the world in his opinion. The shops! The clubs! The twins noticed the look in his eyes, and grinned. They had him!   
"All right. I'll get my stuff together."   
  
To Be Continued....  
  



End file.
